


what you choose to put in the ground

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Love and Other Fairytales [6]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Fae & Fairies, Gen, M/M, Mind Control, Urban Fantasy, compulsive behaviors, the amount of chill roman has is expressed in negative numbers, this was supposed to be a oneshot rip me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:39:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Logan and Patton are, understandably, a bit hesitant about making friends. Roman has no such qualms.OrRoman finds the weirdest kids in school and instantly becomes ride or die.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from The Heart And The Fist by Rudy Franscisco

Roman had a map, a stack of brand new school supplies, and more excitement than should really be able to fit in his body.

Wickhills Public School was not really big enough that Roman actually  _needed_  a map, but new students in movies always had maps. Roman felt that was a very important part of being new.

The school was so small that the elementary, middle, and high schools were all on the same campus, three buildings separated by narrow walkways and not much else. The sports fields dwarfed the buildings three times over, and the middle school was the smallest building of all with only three grades in it.

Roman was  _not_ interested in sports – he got quite enough exercise traipsing through the forest, thank you – but he was incredibly excited about the other extra-curriculars.

You wouldn’t think a school that small would have much in the way of those, but Wickhills always managed to be self-sufficient in spite of its small size.

And of course, everybody knew that fae loved the artists best.

But the first drama club meeting wasn’t for another week; right now Roman was just trying to find his English classroom.

He thought it would be nice to talk to other kids about books while he read them. Mamaw was a lovely discussion partner, but she always already knew how the story ended before he did, which was really not much fun at all.

Roman turned right and seemed to end up in the same hallway he’d been in three times.

Maybe he did need the map.

The English classroom was marked in blue, the number circled, and when Roman looked at the numbers on the doors he was passing he realized the reason he’d been walking past the room was because he’d accidentally covered the last number when he circled it.

Roman found the correct classroom and took a deep breath as he walked in.

A gray haired man with wire framed glasses looked up from the board, raising his eyebrows, and the other students followed his gaze.

“Can I help you?” said the teacher.

“Are you Mr. Mitchell?”

“Yes. Are you the student who failed to arrive to my class in time for attendance?”

Roman wavered, eyes darting between the teacher, looking very unamused, and the other students, all of whom were either smirking or avoiding eye contact.

“I suppose?” he said hesitantly.

Mr. Mitchell scoffed.

“Your attitude does not bode well for the rest of the year, Mr. Gage,”

“I- I just couldn’t find the classroom-”

“I don’t care about your excuses, Mr. Gage. Please take your seat,”

Roman had seen enough movies to know that there was no way he was going to win this, and that putting up a fight would only make it worse.

Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

He sat in his seat, placing his stack of things in the basket underneath the chair. He pulled out the folder he’d designated for English and did his very best not to glare at the teacher and  _really_ make everything worse.

Mr. Mitchell finished outlining the syllabus, and the longer he spoke, Roman realized that the other students had a copy of it in front of them, and Roman didn’t. He raised his hand.

About the time his arm started ache, he realized the teacher was deliberately ignoring him.

Lowering his arm, he glanced at the paper next to him.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly.

The student next to him raised his eyes, looking stunned that Roman had spoken to him. His glasses were a little big on his face, his eyes very round and very grey. He looked a bit like an owl.

“Yes?”

“Could I move my desk closer to yours? I don’t have a syllabus,”

“I… suppose?”

Roman wasn’t sure why this was a weird request, but if this other boy wasn’t arguing Roman wasn’t going to call him on his hesitance.

Luckily the desk didn’t squeak, and the teacher didn’t seem to notice. Roman pulled out a piece of paper and began to copy down what looked like the most important parts from the other students paper.

After a minute, the other boy put a hand over Roman paper.

“You can’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?” Roman said incredulously.

“Write in red pen,” said the other boy, as though he was speaking to someone incredibly stupid.

“Why not?”

“Red pen is for mistakes,” he said, “You have to write in blue or black,”

“All my pens are red,” Roman said flatly, “Red is my favorite color, so that’s all I got,”

“I can provide you with a suitable pen. I also have pencils, If you would prefer them,”

“Do you have any red pencils?” said Roman, a little sarcastically.

The other boy looked pained.

“You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers,” he said.

“Mr. Gage, Mr. Sanders. Did you have something you wanted to share with the rest of the class?”

“No, not particularly,” said – well apparently his last name was Sanders, and he was even worse at staying out of trouble than Roman.

“I’ll thank you to move your seat back to it’s appropriate position, Mr. Gage,”

“I don’t have a syllabus, so I’m reading off of his,” said Roman, trying his best to sound neutrally pleasant.

“Then maybe next time you will arrive to class on time. I will give you a syllabus at the end of the period,”

“How am I supposed to-”

“If you continue to argue with me, I will be happy to give you the syllabus in detention,”

“He can hardly be expected to participate in the lesson when he does not have the necessary materials,” blurted the boy next to him.

“Ex _cuse_  me?”

“You illogically singled him out for lateness,” he continued, his voice speeding up as he spoke, “It is not as if Wickhills is inundated with new students, so you knew he was unfamiliar with the building, and it is unreasonable to expect him to know the layout of the school on his first day. You also ignored him when he raised his hand, therefore it was obviously necessary for him to seek out a solution to his problem through another avenu-”

“You know, Mr. Sanders, if you wanted you  _and_  your new friend to have detention, you only had to ask,”

The boy squinted.

“I do not understand how you arrived at the conclusion that I wanted detention,” he said, “And it is erroneous to describe us as friends, we have exchanged the bare minimum of communication at this point,”

He paused.

“And also he uses the wrong color pens,”

“Oh my god,” said Roman quietly, wondering if this boy was really that dense but having the sneaking suspicion that he was actually serious.

“What? Red pens are for mistakes-”

“You two can feel free to have this discussion in the hallway,” said Mr. Mitchell, “Where you cannot continue to disrupt my class,”

Roman made an affronted noise, but the other boy simply gave a small sigh and grabbed his bag.

“On what grounds?” demanded Roman.

“This is not a court room, Mr. Gage,” said the teacher tiredly, “I do not need ‘grounds’ to remove you. Or indeed, grounds to have you both removed from the honors course entirely,”

“But-”

“I know you are new at this,” said Sanders in a low tone, “So your attempts to defend yourself are understandable, but they are also a waste of time,”

“It’s never a waste of time to question an unjust authority,” Roman hissed back.

“Quaint, but wildly naive,”

“ _In the hall, please_ ,”

Roman huffed, stacking his things and following the other student out the door.

He seemed totally unconcerned at being expelled from the classroom, sitting down and pulling out a heavy text.

“So you’re just going to let him get away with this?”

That got him a stunned, bitter laugh.

“You really are naive,” he said, “They don’t ‘get away’ with anything. They’re in charge; they can do whatever they want,”

“You say naive, I say idealistic,” Roman huffed, plopping down next to him.

“Naive, idealistic; tomato, Solanum lycopersicum. Replacing a word with a synonym does not change basic facts,”

“Do you always talk like a human thesaurus?”

“Yes,”

Roman stared, baffled.

“You’re not messing with me?”

The boy turned, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Roman stared, and he couldn’t help the way his mouth wanted to pull up into a smile.

“I’m Roman, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.

“I know your name; you are the only new student at Wickhills Public School. Discounting the kindergartners, of course. Your name was the only thing Patton would talk about this morning,”

Roman couldn’t help but laugh. “Traditionally, you tell me your name now,”

“Oh,” he said, “That makes sense. My name is Logan Sanders,”

Roman thought that name sounded familiar but couldn’t place it, and Logan continued before he could think about it any longer.

“And I apologize for exacerbating the situation with Mr. Mitchell,” Logan said, “I was trying to help but I should have known better. I have never successfully defused a situation before and it was foolish to try,”

“Oh, woe is me, someone tried to defend me from unjust accusations,” Roman laughed, “However will I recover, you fiend?”

Logan’s mouth twitched.

“I am almost certain you are being humorous, and if I am correct then I will concede that I am amused,”

“How very gracious of you,” Roman replied.

“It is, isn’t it?” said Logan, the small, smug smile still in place.

Roman decided that, tossed out of the class or not, the day was not entirely a bust.

* * *

Roman had no idea where to sit.

The cafeteria wasn’t very big, and there weren’t that many people, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in sheer, ear-throbbing noise. Roman, whose loudest life experiences so far were limited to the farmers market and a dozen chickens, found himself incredibly overwhelmed.

Until he caught sight of one familiar face.

He squeezed past a knot of eighth graders and put on his best, most winning smile as he plopped down across from Logan.

The table had six chairs, and was empty besides Logan, Roman, and one other boy Roman hadn’t seen yet. He reached across the table to shake the stranger’s hand.

“Hi! I’m Roman,”

The stranger looked a little stunned, but he recovered quickly.

“I’m Patton,” he said brightly, “Nice to meet you,”

“Oh! You’re Patton?”

Patton’s face suddenly fell, though Roman couldn’t imagine why. He nodded, staring miserably into his mashed potatoes

“Logan mentioned you this morning in English,” said Roman, “We got into it with Mr. Mitchell and he threw us out,”

Logan groaned and slapped his hand over his forehead.

“Logan!” said Patton, and his face now showed an entirely different kind of distress, “It’s the first day of school!”

“Whoa, wait, it was  _my_  fault,” said Roman, “I showed up late and Mitchell got mad-”

“It was  _not_  your fault,” said Logan, suddenly vehement, “How can you be expected to know the layout of a building you have never been in? And not giving you a syllabus was a petty slight, he was being unreasonable,”

“Logan,” said Patton softly, “You have to pick your battles,”

“I  _do_  pick my battles,” said Logan petulantly, “I simply pick more of them than most people,”

“Well, in that case, I think we’re going to get along  _splendidly_ ,” said Roman.

“I doubt that. You use the wrong color pens,” said Logan, and Roman actually couldn’t tell if he was being serious.

“Logan is very passionate about colors,” said Patton sagely.

“I am passionate about color- _coding_. There is a difference,”

“Sure there is,”

“I write in red pen because it’s my favorite color,” said Roman, “I don’t think colors are that complicated,”

“I write my name in blue glitter pen,” said Patton, “It drives Logan loony,”

“Glitter pen is not an appropriate academic medium!”

“Do you have any other glitter pens?” asked Roman.

“You bet I do!” said Patton excitedly, pulling a pack of twelve rainbow glitter pens from his pencil bag.

“Is this a coup?” said Logan incredulously.

“It’s called democracy,” said Roman, picking a bright red glitter pen from the pack and immediately starting a drawing on his left hand. “And it’s rich that you’re complaining about  _me_  violating appropriate color-coding. Your English folder is yellow,”

“Of course it’s yellow, what else would it be?”

“English is  _red_ , obviously. Science is yellow,”

Logan looked actually offended.

“Science is  _green_ , and I have no idea how you arrived at any other conclusion,”

“Oh, it’s a conclusion?” said Roman with a smirk. “Can you explain your reasoning?”

Logan ears turned pink.

“It’s- It’s common sense!”

“Is this a fight?” said Patton hesitantly.

“Of course not,” said Roman happily, “It’s a rousing discussion between friends,”

“You’re insufferable,” said Logan.

“Ah, but you did  _not_  say I wasn’t your friend,” said Roman, moving on from the little racing flames on his hand and starting on a dragon to breathe them, “I’ve already wormed my way into your cold dead heart,”

Logan sputtered, but Roman just pushed on of his honey biscuits at him.

“Have a biscuit, Thesaurus Rex. Goldilocks, you can have one, too,”

“Thank you!” said Patton. He grabbed one and took a bite, chewing happily.

And froze immediately.

His hand jerked out and grabbed Logan’s wrist, who had huffed and gone to reach for one of the biscuits.

“Uh,” Patton said nervously.

“Patton? What’s wrong?” said Logan.

Patton looked distressed, eyes flitting between Logan and Roman.

“I don’t- I don’t think Roman knows,” says Patton quietly.

“I don’t know what?”

“The biscuits have honey in them,” Patton continued, ignoring Roman and looking straight at Logan.

Logan’s hand, hovering over one of the biscuits, retreated immediately.

“Uh, if you’re allergic to bees or something, I don’t think it requires quite this much drama,” Roman laughed, “I won’t bring things with honey in them anymore, it’s no big deal.

“It isn’t that,” Logan snapped, and Roman wondered how the atmosphere had gone from jovial to prickly and tense in so short a time.

Logan took a deep breath and snapped the rubber band off his wrist. As he twisted and pulled it back and forth, he began to speak.

“It has become obvious that you do not actually know who I am,” he said flatly, “And it stands to reason that you also do not know who Patton is,”

Roman looked between them, Logan glaring at the table and Patton staring morosely out the window a few yards away.

“I don’t understand?”

“I know,” said Logan, “I’m not human,”

Roman instantly raised his eyebrows.

“My brother Thomas was kidnapped as a baby and I was left in his place,” Logan continued, “My parents retrieved Thomas but did not give me back. I am a changeling,”

Roman’s hands had tensed on the table, and his instinct to reach for his knife was there, but faint, and he didn’t even have it anyway. His eyes started cataloging small things about Logan he hadn’t noticed – his eyes weren’t quite a normal color; his skin caught the light in a strange way and he moved too precisely. Roman felt like an idiot for not noticing.

“And I have a curse on my voice,” said Patton sadly, pulling down the neck of his shirt and lifting his head to reveal a faint white hand-print. “I’m. Not really that safe to be around,”

“That is  _not_  accurate,” Logan hissed, “There is nothing dangerous about you,”

“Yes, there is,” said Patton softly, “Just not for you, Logan,”

And then they both fell silent, refusing to make eye contact. They seemed to be waiting for something.

Waiting on him, Roman realized. Waiting for him to leave. Waiting for him to run away.

“Okay,” he said, letting out a breath. “Okay,”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, and Patton’s head snapped towards Roman, stunned

“‘Okay?’” said Logan incredulously.

“Yes, okay, is there an echo?” said Roman, a little firmer this time, “No more honey, then. I can see why you wouldn’t want to be drunk at school,”

“Is this a joke?” demanded Logan.

“No,” said Roman, “And I’m not going to lie to you; I am a little apprehensive. Especially about the changeling thing. I do not have the best track record in getting along with fae,”

“But I like you,” he continued, shrugging, “I certainly like you more than all the jerks in Mitchell’s class who laughed at us. Fire-forged friends, and all,”

“I’d hardly consider that event to qualify as ‘fire,’” said Logan, and he was obviously trying to hide the hope in his expression and failing miserably.

“And you,” said Roman, gesturing at Patton, “I don’t know what this curse entails, exactly, but you’re not really that intimidating,”

“You can’t say that without knowing what it is,” said Patton, and he wasn’t trying to hide his hope at all.

“Then tell me what it is, and I’ll make an informed decision,” said Roman, pushing the biscuits towards Patton and the orange slices towards Logan, “In fact, tell me everything. I love to gossip,”

Roman wasn’t quite sure how he was going to reconcile the part of him that considered all magic a threat and the part of him that already really liked both of the people in front of him.

But he was definitely going to try.

* * *

Mamaw had been tense and quiet all evening. Roman wasn’t sure why she was so upset. She replied with one word answers and was bizarrely polite, barely responding to his ribbing and occasionally shooting him looks dripping with anxiety.

“So,” she said, as they sat down at the table, “Tell me about your first day of school,”

Roman, who had been waiting for this moment all evening, jumped at the chance to talk.

“My English teacher is a tyrant,” he said, “I got tossed out on my ear,”

“Good for you,” she said, “Better to let him know you won’t put up with that shit from the get-go,”

“I had help,” Roman continued, “He got sent to the hall with me and we made friends,”

“That’s good,” she said, “Strength in numbers, ‘n all that,”

“And you’re never going to believe this,” said Roman, “The kids a _changeling_ ,”

The glass in Mamaw’s hand shattered.

Roman leapt back from the table, heart pounding.

Mamaw seemed completely calm, in spite of the fact that the glass had cut her hand, which was now bleeding sluggishly. She held her palm over her paper napkin and slowly began to pick the pieces of glass out.

“Get the dustpan,” she said coolly, and Roman was so frazzled he obeyed without a word.

His hands were shaking as he retrieved the dustpan and broom from the living room closet, and his heart was beating wildly in his throat as he returned to the kitchen and began to brush the glass into it.

The silence continued to grow thicker and thicker as Roman cleaned up the glass and Mamaw moved to the sink to run water over the cut. Dizzy came in from the living room, her fur bristling and her body vibrating with tension as she wound herself around Roman ankles.

“Are you okay?” said Roman. His voice cracked on the last word.

“No,” said Mamaw flatly. She didn’t elaborate.

She wrapped an older, dark dishcloth around her hand. As Roman dumped the dustpan into the trash, she turned to him and spoke with that same flat tone.

“Please tie this,”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly, tying a neat knot and immediately stepping back.

“Ya aren’t in trouble,” she said quietly, “I’m sorry I scared ya,”

“I wasn’t scared,” he lied.

She smiled thinly and patted his face with her uninjured hand.

“Okay,” she said, even though it was clear she didn’t believe him.

“What happened?” said Roman softly.

Mamaw’s jaw worked back and forth.

“C’mere, baby,” she said quietly, holding out her arms.

Roman went instantly, and he held back the noise of complaint when Mamaw squeezed him so hard he had trouble breathing.

“Is it that bad?” he said quietly, “Is he dangerous or something?”

“You know the answer to that,” she said, “Though I don’t think  _anyone_ in that family could hurt ya if they tried,” 

And wasn’t that ridiculously cryptic?

“You know him?”

“No,” she said, “Never got the chance,”

* * *

Even when Roman offered to not be friends with Logan, Mamaw had resisted him.

“What’s done is done,” she said. “I won’t take this from ya, much as it might kill me,”

And she’d refused to say anything more transparent than that, leaving Roman puzzling over what she knew about Logan, how she knew it, and why on earth him being Roman’s friend seemed to fill her with a pervasive kind of resigned grief.

But she didn’t say to leave him alone, and the longer Roman spent with Logan and Patton, the more he felt like he might have to ignore her even if she did.

They all just… clicked. Even the hiccup where Patton had accidentally told Roman not to pick at his scab and Roman’s hand had slapped down on the table like it was magnetized, hadn’t put a damper on on their burgeoning friendship.

And it was hard for Roman to hold it against him when Patton had burst into tears immediately afterwards.

Roman had been running late that morning, so when he came to the table he wasn’t expecting Logan to be alone.

“Where’s Patton?”

“Presumably sick,” said Logan, and his voice was calm even though his hands were fidgeting furiously with his rubber band. “We are getting into the fall weather, and Patton is particularly prone to hay fever. He has allergies,”

“… Are you okay?”

“‘Okay’ is a nebulous and subjective concept, it means nothing,” snapped Logan.

Roman gave him an unimpressed look.

Logan sighed.

“It is nothing you need to concern yourself with, Roman,” he insisted.

Roman continued to stare.

Logan wasn’t very good at direct eye contact, but he gave it his best shot for a few seconds before huffing and looking out the window.

“I find I am anxious when I do not know exactly where Patton is. I experience the same distress with my brother and parents,”

“You can’t possibly know where Patton is at all times,” reasoned Roman.

“But I know where he is  _supposed_  to be, which is  _here_ , and he’s  _not_ ,” said Logan vehemently.

“Hey, hey, easy, Specs,” said Roman, hand hovering over Logan’s, “I’m sure he’s fine,”

“I know,” snapped Logan, “I’m well aware that my current irrationality stems from poorly managed control issues. Patton and I have had extensive discussions on the subject,”

“…Then why are you freaking out?”

“Knowing the source of an emotion doesn’t make it go away,” said Logan, “Although if I could do so I absolutely would,”

“Fair enough,” said Roman. And then, a little hesitantly, “I guess… human emotions aren’t your strong suit?”

Logan stopped cold.

“What exactly are you implying?”

“That… didn’t come out quite right,” said Roman.

“Then try again,” said Logan, and he didn’t look happy in the slightest, “And perhaps you could think about it for a few moments, just to make sure there are no misunderstandings,”

“I just mean…” Roman mulled over the thought for another moment, “Surely you could go? If you really wanted? Go back?”

Logan clenched and unclenched his fist a few times.

“It can’t be easy, being the only fairy amongst all these humans. I guess I just want to know why you stay,” said Roman.

Logan stared for another moment, and then reached for his bag for some reason.

“Uhhh, Logan?”

Logan continued to fish various things out of his bag.

“If I’ve overstepped, you can feel free to deck me, although I’d obviously prefer if you didn’t,”

Logan laid one of his textbooks between them, as well as a battered insect field guide and a folded napkin.

“Look,” said Logan.

“I’m looking,” said Roman. A pause, then “What am I looking at?”

“You see this?” said Logan, gesturing to the book, “What is it?”

“Your science textbook?”

Logan shook his head, pointing to the random smattering of stars and flowers in the bottom left corner.

“When we got our textbooks, my bother and I spent the evening making paper bag covers and decorating the exteriors. The flowers are mine, and the stars are Thomas,”

Roman felt like he should say something, but Logan moved on before he could.

“This,” he said, opening the bug book, “Is an insect guide my mother bought for me when I was four. Look, here, in the pages,”

He pushed it towards Roman, flicking through them, almost every one of which had post-it notes stuck to them. The post-it notes had small pencil drawings on them, which had been preserved with something that smelled acrid but slightly floral.

“Every time my mother sees a bug she thinks I will like,” said Logan, pointing at one of the post-its, “She makes a sketch of it and gives it to me,”

Roman was starting to develop a lump in his throat.

“And this,” said Logan, moving on to the napkin, “This was in my lunchbox,”

He unfolded it, and gestured for Roman to lean forward to read the writing.

“‘Hope you like the berries, Berry. Love, Dad,’” Roman read, and he was really starting to feel like a jerk.

“There is not actually anything stopping  _you_  from wandering off into a fairy hill and leaving your grandmother behind,” said Logan, and he didn’t seem to be having any trouble making eye contact now. “So why don’t you?”

Roman gave a wan smile. “Was this your roundabout way of telling me to shut up?”

“This was my roundabout way of telling you that you are an ass,” Logan said matter-of-factually

Roman choked on a laugh.

“Well said,” he conceded, “I’m sorry. Truly, I am,”

“Well. You are… my friend,” said Logan, gathering back up his evidence, “So I forgive you,”

“Very gracious of you,”

“It is, isn’t it?” said Logan.

* * *

Logan and Roman’s lockers were in the same hallway, at opposite ends. Roman barely carried anything, preferring to come to his locker between each class, but Logan only went to his in the morning and after lunch, so it took him much longer to get his things.

Roman was twirling a pencil around his finger as he waited for Logan to be done. As such he didn’t see Robbie Harris coming until his feet were directly in front of him.

“What do you want, Harris,” Roman snapped, stowing the pencil in one of his notebooks spirals.

“Where’s Freak Number Three?” said Robbie.

“Where’s Oaf Number One?” said Logan nastily.

“Oh, c’mon Sanders, we don’t need Chad here to talk,” said Robbie, shoving Logan’s shoulder in a faux-friendly way. “We never talk, just you and me,”

“That’s because I find your company odorous, and your personality repulsive,”

“Get lost, Harris, we have class,” said Roman, shouldering past him.

“You know,” said Robbie, “I got me a feelin’ you might be late,”

“We’re not going to engage with-”

But before Logan could finish, Robbie pulled out a lumpy bag.

Roman had just enough time to see Logan’s eyes go wide with panic before Robbie turned it over and spilled the whole bag of field corn at Logan’s feet.

Later, Roman wouldn’t actually remember punching Robbie.

He  _would_  remember the teacher pulling him off of Robbie, and the pinched, mortified expression on Logan’s face as he gathered the corn kernels into a single pile and began to count them meticulously.

“Office,  _now_ ,” said the teacher.

“You are  _out_  of your mind,” snarled Roman.

“Unbelievable!” the teacher said, “What is your name?”

“Roman Gage,” he spat, and then rattled off his grandmother’s name and their home phone for good measure.

“Call whoever you want, but I’m not going anywhere,” he said, sitting down and leaning against the lockers.

The teacher didn’t seem to know what to do with a student that just ignored him entirely, and he couldn’t actually drag Roman, so he turned his ire on the knot of students gathering around them.

Roman wasn’t sure what would happen if he distracted Logan – God forbid he had to start over – so he just sat close enough that Logan could see him in his peripherals and settled in for a long wait.

The hallway emptied, and a few minutes later a set of footsteps started coming down it. Roman raised his head to snap at them and startled when he saw who could only be Logan’s brother, Thomas coming towards them.

“Oh, Logan,” Thomas said softly.

He turned to Roman.

“Who was it?”

“Robbie Harris,” said Roman. “I’m pretty sure I broke his nose,” he said after a pause.

Thomas winced.

“I heard,” he said.

“Did you ditch class?” said Roman.

“Sort of,” said Thomas. He was obviously talking to Roman but he kept his eyes on his brother. “I said I was going to the bathroom. Just didn’t mention I was coming here first,”

“I don’t really know what to do,” Roman confessed. “I’m just keeping him company, I suppose,”

“That’s all you can do, really,” said Thomas sadly. “I’m gonna go tell Dad. If he doesn’t already know,”

“What? You can’t ditch school entirely, there’s no use in all three of us being in trouble,”

Thomas shook his head before Roman finished speaking.

“Our dad’s the high school music teacher,” said Thomas, “If I go around back nobody will even see me,”

He stepped around Roman and put one hand on Logan’s shoulder. Logan tilted his head and caught Thomas’s hand in a strange little shoulder-hug, even as his eyes didn’t leave the corn and his mouth didn’t stop moving, muttering the numbers.

Roman winced. It was sweet, but it also proved Logan was perfectly aware of his surroundings, even as he sat there trapped.

Thomas left, and Roman continued to sit, frustrated that he couldn’t help and becoming more and more anxious about what was going to happen. Maybe he’d made a mistake, staying with Logan. He’d given Robbie Harris the chance to say whatever he wanted about what happened, and he might have made everything ten times worse.

It took about a half an hour for Logan to finish, but he didn’t speak when he was done. He brushed the field corn back into the bag, rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands.

“Logan?”

“You didn’t have to stay,” said Logan thickly.

“Yes, I really did, Nikola Don’t-Test-Me,”

Logan snorted.

“C’mon,” said Roman, standing and offering his hand for Logan to take. “Time to face the music,”

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble,”

“ _I_  got me in trouble,” said Roman, “And Robbie Harris better give us both a wide berth, or I’m going to continue to get me in trouble,”

“Please do not,”

“I simply shall not be persuaded,” said Roman loftily, “I am duty-bound to be your knight-in-shining-jean-jacket for as long as you are persecuted,”

“How very gracious of you,” said Logan.

“It is, isn’t it?”

* * *

Roman heard Mamaw coming all the way from the parking lot.

The cane she used when she wasn’t at home clacked loudly as she came ambling down the hallway, grumbling under her breath and scowling at the bright posters on the wall.

“So,” she said, “You punched the Sanders boy,”

Roman jerked. “What? No!”

She raised her eyebrow.

“They said on the phone you were in a fight with him,”

“No, the fight was  _about_  Logan,” said Roman, “Robbie Harris dumped a bunch of field corn in front of him,”

Her eyes flew all the way up to her sparse hairline.

“So you punched the Harris boy. Then what?”

Roman shifted, a little embarrassed.

“I sat with him until he was done,” he said quietly.

She nodded a few times. She seemed to deliberate for a moment.

Then she nodded firmly once more, like she’d resolved something in her mind.

“Who’s in there?” she said, pointing at the door with her cane.

“Logan and his parents- whoa what are you doing!”

But Mamaw was already throwing open the door, and all Roman could do was follow her in.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May Gage and Dot Sanders: unstoppable force meets immovable object.

It was always the worst part of getting in trouble, in Logan’s opinion.

Sitting in front of an adult that didn’t care about him, or anything he had to say. Someone who’d already decided what the truth was and now was just working on proving it was his fault.

Mom’s particular brand of biting comments delivered in a saccharine voice was not doing much good at this juncture.

“Robbie Harris has already been to my office, Mrs. Sanders,” said Mr. Marks. “He had to leave, because his nose was broken,”

“And is he going to be punished for what he did?”

“Robbie spilled the bag accidentally, Ma’am, and I hardly think spilling a bag of corn actually constitutes bullying-”

The door slammed open and a wizened, stooping old lady with a claw footed cane burst into the room. Logan startled so bad he grabbed his mother’s hand in alarm.

“So, Jimmy!” she said sharply, “Why’ve you got my boy down here like some kind of delinquent?”

“M-Mrs. Gage, you really should wait outside until I finish speaking with the Sanders family-”

“It’s  _Ms_. Gage, Jimmy Marks, I prefer beer to a husband. It does as much housework and doesn’t shit or snore,”

Roman made a choked off noise and Logan stared at him, baffled. Roman shrugged helplessly.

“Ms. Gage, I’ll be happy to talk about your grandson’s assault on the other student after I am finished here-”

“Now you listen here, Jimmy, if my boy walloped someone they damn well deserved it,”

“We do not condone physical assault as a method of conflict resolution in this school-”

“And you don’t think spilling a buncha bitty pieces in front of a Good Neighbor counts as physical assault?”

Logan heard his mother make some kind of strangled noise next to him, but he was too busy staring at the thundering crone in front of him.

“Mr. Harris didn’t touch him!” insisted Mr. Marks.

“ _Don’t_  you shout at me, Jimmy Marks!” she said as she jabbed her cane in his direction, “I diapered your ass when you didn’t know a pebble from a jawbreaker,”

“M-my name is  _James_ , Ms. Gage!” sputtered the principal.

“And I diapered your daddy’s ass too, so I’ll call you whatever I damn well please,” she snapped.

“Now,” she continued, “If a Good Neighbor came in here and spelled you to dance till your feet bled, I do believe you’d call that a physical assault, don’t you think, Jimmy?”

“That’s- you’re-”

“So it’s stand to reason that pinnin’ the poor boy to the spot till he finishes counting certainly  _does_  count as bullying?”

“Ms.  _Gage_ -”

“So how ‘bout this;” she said, moving towards the door, “we forget this whole mess happened, and I won’t tell my birds about what you do or do not think counts as physical assault,”

“Your  _chickens?”_ Said Mr. Marks incredulously

“Well, they love to gossip, Jimmy,” Ms. Gage said, and her face was the picture of innocence as she stood in the doorway. “And I live so _very_  far out in the woods. Who knows who might hear us? Wouldn’t want someone to call your bluff, would we?”

Mr. Marks made a pinched, furious expression.

“Get out,” he said, bitterly resigned, “Neither of you is going to be suspended at this time,”

“And we all part the dearest of friends,” said Ms. Gage sweetly.

And then she walked out.

The scene seemed frozen for a moment, but then Roman scrambled forward to help Logan grab his things. This set the rest of them in motion and they all piled out.

The final bell had long since rung, and the school was now almost entirely empty. Roman grabbed Logan by the shoulder and shook him.

“Did you see that?” he said excitedly, “Mamaw had the principal shaking in his boots!”

“Your grandmother is incredibly intimidating,” Logan agreed. “I suppose I owe her thanks,”

But as he moved towards Ms. Gage, his mother’s arm snapped out and stopped.

“That’s not necessary, sweetheart,” she said, and she had a very wide and  _very_  fake smile on her face, “Thomas is waiting in the car, we should go home,”

Logan hesitated. It was not often he found himself in disagreement with his mother.

“I would have thought… that you would  _want_  me to thank Ms. Gage for defending me?”

Mom’s mouth pinched a bit and she shook her head slightly. “We can talk about it more when we get home, okay?”

“…Okay,” he said, “May I say goodbye to Roman?”

Mom’s eyes softened immediately, “Of course you can,”

Logan felt himself relax slightly, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. He made his way over to Roman, who had given them some distance when his mother had pulled his arm.

“Everything okay?” said Roman.

“Not enough data to make a viable conclusion,” replied Logan. “I have been told not to thank your grandmother, and my mother will not explain why,”

Roman hummed thoughtfully.

“Mamaw said some cagey stuff about your family that she wouldn’t explain to me either,”

“Like what?” said Logan.

“Well she didn’t like that we were friends, but she also said no one in your family could hurt me. That’s weird, right?”

“Indeed,” said Logan thoughtfully.

“Maybe it’s a curse like Patton’s. Here, pinch me,”

Logan did.

“Ow, jeez, not  _that_ hard!”

“Logan?” called Mom.

“I have to go; we’ll discuss it later,” he said.

“’kay, see you later,”

And, in a move Logan was quite unprepared for, Roman reached out and pulled him into a hug.

Logan flailed slightly, floundering, but he recovered quickly. So, Roman was a hugger – so were Patton and Thomas; Logan wasn’t completely at a loss.

He squeezed back, then dropped his arms to signal he would like to be released. Roman took a step back and grinned.

“Bye, Logan,”

And then, waving his whole arm over Logan’s shoulder, “Bye, Logan’s parents!”

When Logan returned to them, both his parents were waving back at Roman, but while Dad wore a polite smile, Mom looked like she might be about to cry.

“Let’s go home, Berry,” she said, her voice wavering slightly.

Thomas and Logan spent the car ride exchanging alarmed expressions. It was hard not to, with the way Mom’s breath kept hitching, like the very beginning of an aborted sob. After the second one, Dad reached across the dashboard and took her hand. Mom squeezed back so hard her knuckles turned white, but Dad didn’t protest in the slightest.

When they got home, Logan and Thomas both moved towards the basement, where they usually did their homework right after school, but a gentle throat clearing from Dad stopped them.

He pointed towards the couch, and Mom was already sitting in the armchair next to it, wringing her hands.

Thomas shrank back, just a little; Logan could understand why. It was very hard not to jump to the conclusion that they were in trouble.

Logan grabbed Thomas’s hand and he relaxed ever so slightly, enough to fall in step with Logan and follow him to the couch. Logan sat on the side closest to their parents, just to be safe.

Dad didn’t sit; instead, he stood behind Mom’ chair, hands on both her shoulders. He smiled at Logan and Thomas, which for some reason didn’t make Logan any less apprehensive.

“First,” said Mom, “I want to make something clear; you are  _not_  in trouble, and you haven’t done anything wrong,”

Logan sensed a ‘but’ coming.

“And it was very… gallant of your friend-  _Roman_ \- to stick up for you like that,”

“He sat with him, too,” Thomas interjected. He sounded like he was defending Roman, which didn’t make sense, because Mom had just given Roman a compliment.

So why did Logan  _also_  feel like he needed to defend Roman?

“He seems like a wonderful boy,” and she sounded  _sad_ , why would that make her sad, nothing about this conversation made sense - “And of course you can be friends with him,”

She took a deep steadying breath, and Logan saw Dad’s hands tighten on her shoulders.

“But,” she said, her voice now much firmer, “I don’t want you around May Gage,”

Logan and Thomas exchanged confused looks.

“Roman’s grandma?” said Thomas.

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t want you to go over to her house, or go places with Roman if he’s with her, or- ever be around her if me or your Dad isn’t there,”

Logan was baffled. Their parents had never placed such a restriction on them before. They walked around town by themselves most of the time. Mom and Dad had always encouraged them to be friendly to everyone they met.

“What did she do?” said Thomas, who, as always, was several steps ahead of Logan when it came to interpersonal dynamics.

Dot shook her head firmly.

“We’re not going to talk about that. It’s grown-up stuff,”

“So she did do  _something_?” said Logan.

“ _Logan_ ,” She warned, in the sharpest voice she’d ever directed at him.

Thomas and Logan both shrank back instantly.

Her eyes immediately softened.

“I’m sorry,” said Mom softly, “I shouldn’t have snapped. I promise we’ll talk about it when you’re older,”

Logan nodded warily.

“So… just so there is no confusion… We are only permitted to interact with Roman at school?”

Mom’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, sweetheart, not at all! Roman can come over whenever you want. He’s always welcome here,”

Logan and Thomas exchanged another baffled look.

That brought a smile back to Mom’s face and a laugh from Dad.

“Okay, that’s your ‘reading each other’s minds’ look, none of that,” said Dad, “It’s not anything you boys need to worry about,”

Logan knew, of course, that he and Thomas could not read each other’s minds. That didn’t change the fact that he was certain he and Thomas were both going to nothing  _but_  worry about it.

* * *

After homework, Thomas and Logan retreated to their room, and Thomas started talking as soon as the door shut.

“This is hinky, right?”

“I agree with your assessment, despite the fact that I am not sure what ‘hinky’ means, exactly,” Logan agreed, climbing onto his bed and sitting cross-legged.

“They really don’t want you around Ms. Gage,”

“Wait, me?” said Logan, “They told us both not to go around Ms. Gage,”

Thomas shook his head.

“I like Roman, but he’s your friend, really, not mine. Why would I go over to his house?”

“Then why did they tell both of us?” asked Logan.

Thomas sat across from Logan on the bed, putting one elbow his knee and perching his chin on his fist.

“Because if they’d sent me away, it would seem like they were ganging up on you,”

Logan nodded slowly, understanding. “You with me, and it’s two-on-two,”

“Bingo,” said Thomas.

“And if it’s just about me, it’s probably magic-related,”

Thomas made a displeased face.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, uncomfortable.

“It does not matter to  _you_ ,” said Logan, “It matters quite a bit to nearly everyone else,”

He couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“And while your denial of that is idealistic to the point of near-insanity, I do still appreciate it,”

Thomas smiled back.

“I love you, too, even when you insult me with big words so I don’t understand,”

“I am sure I don’t know what you are insinuating,” Logan said innocently.

The both stared seriously at each other. Thomas broke first, and Logan followed him into a fit of giggling.

The joking atmosphere was broken by a very distinct tapping at the window.

Thomas looked curiously over Logan shoulders, and then his mouth dropped open in shock.

“Oh my goodness  _gracious_ ,” he exclaimed, scrambling out of the bed to the window.

“What?” said Logan, but his question was answered when he turned and saw Roman.

Who was, somehow, outside their second story window.

Logan rushed to follow Thomas, who was opening the window. He reached out and grabbed Roman by the forearms, and he and Thomas both pulled him in.

“ _What_  are you  _doing_?” hissed Logan.

“Well, Mamaw wouldn’t tell me jack or squat, so I came here to see if your parents had been more forthcoming,”

“So,” said Logan, his voice taking on an irritated edge, “You snuck out of your house, walked through, what, a mile and a half of woods? And then climbed an oak tree so young it is a marvel that it did not break in order to get into this room instead of, I don’t know,  _knocking on the front door?_ ”

“Well of course I couldn’t come in the front door,” said Roman, “Your parents would have called Mamaw,”

“Actually,” interjected Thomas, “I don’t think our Mama would tell your grandma anything for love or money,”

“Oh, really?” said Roman, “what did she say?”

“To never be alone with May Gage under any circumstances,” replied Thomas.

“Harsh,” said Roman. “Mamaw acted like she was at a funeral, but she didn’t tell me to avoid your parents,”

“What about me?” asked Logan.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve ascertained that whatever the issue is, it centers around me. Did your grandmother tell you to avoid me?”

Roman shifted, a little nervous.

“Well, she didn’t seem happy about it,” he said, “And I actually… _asked_  if she wanted me to not talk to you, the first day we met. She told me no,”

“Fascinating,” said Logan, “Your grandmother takes issue with the situation, but doesn’t seem to have a problem with any of the involved parties. Our parents are unconcerned by the situation but vehemently distrustful of your grandmother specifically-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” interrupted Thomas, “I know we all wanna figure this out, but why couldn’t we do it at school tomorrow? We’re gonna get in trouble if they find Roman up here,”

“… Well, technically…” said Logan, “Mom  _did_  say Roman was always welcome?”

“Reaching, but we’re going with it,” said Roman.

“Do I get a say in this? It’s my room too, y’know,”

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but Logan heard something and raised a hand.

“Listen,” he said, “Roman, come here, the vent,”

“The vent?” said Roman. Thomas and Logan started moving towards the other side of the room.

“Yes, the vent,” said Logan.

“They don’t know about it,” said Thomas, “Or they wouldn’t have secret conversations in the living room where we can hear them through it,”

The three of them gathered around the grate in the floor. Roman seemed surprised.

“Convenient,”

Logan hushed him, and they all brought their ears to the vent.

“- _out_ of my house _,_ May _, now,”_

“I’ll be quite pleased if you don’t shout at me, Dorothy, before I’ve even spoken. And I’m not technically in your house,”

“Yes, you always have a smart-ass remark for everything, don’t you?”

Thomas and Logan exchanged astonished glances.

“Did Mom just-?”

“She swore!” said Thomas, and he looked absolutely scandalized.

Roman shushed them insistently.

“Why are you here, May?” said Mom.

“I am deeply sorry to be darkenin’ your doorstep,” Ms. Gage said, acidly sarcastic, “And will be happy to leave and never come back, soon as I got what I came for,”

“What could you possibly want?”

There was a pause, where Logan got the distinct impression he could  _hear_  Ms. Gage rolling her eyes.

“ _Roman!_ ”

All three of them jumped, and Roman sighed heavily.

“I never get away with anything,” he muttered.

“Your grandson isn’t here,” they heard Mom say.

“He sure as hell is,” Ms. Gage replied, “He’s listenin’ at that vent right there, with both your boys,”

“Oh, come  _on_ , you fun-sucking old bat!” Roman shouted through the grate.

“Yeah, yeah, I ruin everything,” Ms. Gage called back.

Someone started to come up the stairs and they all shuffled to their feet.

“Do you normally say such things to your grandmother?” Logan asked quietly, “I was under the impression you were very fond of her,”

Roman sent him a baffled look.

“I am? What do you mean?”

Logan didn’t get a chance to answer, because Dad walked through the door.

“Well,” he said, “I don’t know how you got up here, Roman, but I guess it’s time to go,”

He was smiling, but he also looked incredibly anxious.

“Are you okay, Mr. Sanders?”

Dad winced.

“I’ve been trying to avoid being in the same place as Dot and May at the same time for about twelve years, and I’m  _sincerely_  hoping they’re both still gonna be alive by the time we get back downstairs,”

“Then why did you leave them alone?” said Roman curiously.

“I learned quite young that being around Dot when she’s angry is both hazardous and incredibly unwise,”

“Mama doesn’t even squish spiders, Dad,” said Thomas dubiously.

“Yeah, well, spiders aren’t May Gage,” Dad muttered conspiratorially.

“If they do fight, my money’s on Mamaw,” Roman whispered to the other two as they followed Dad down the stairs.

Logan stared at him incredulously.

“Your grandmother walks with a  _cane,_  Roman,”

“Bet me,”

“You’re twelve Roman, do you even have money?” said Thomas.

“We don’t have to bet money-”

“Roman Joshua Gage, what have I told you about gamblin’?”

They rounded the corner of the stairs into the living room, where May Gage was still standing in the open doorway and Mom was furiously rearranging the throw pillows and scowling.

Roman groaned.

“That I’m not allowed to do it until I’m better at bluffing and won’t bring shame upon our house,”

Thomas snorted almost imperceptibly. Logan was looking between Roman and his grandmother, wondering just how normal of an interaction this was.

“Now, yer gonna apologize for breakin’ and enterin’ like some kinda hooligan, and then we’re going the hell home,”

Roman had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“I am very sorry for breaking into your house, Mr. and Mrs. Sanders,”

Mom’s whole face softened.

“Oh, dear, of course it’s fine. Next time you can just use the front door, m’kay?”

Roman nodded.

“The truck  _is_  runnin’ so wrap it up, please,” said Ms. Gage.

Mom’s face twisted, and she looked so angry Logan instinctively shrunk back.

“Oh, are you in a  _hurry,_  you impatient-”

“Dot!” Dad rushed forward and Mom’s mouth fell shut. She took a breath and then brought out a smile that was as placid as it was obviously fake.

“By all means, let the girl speak; God knows she’s been waitin’ more ‘n a decade to tell me off,”

Thomas had grabbed Logan’s hand behind Roman’s back, but Roman was just watching the two women, his head moving back and forth like it was a tennis match.

“May, I really think you ought to leave,” said Dad quietly.

Ms. Gage squinted at Dad, then looked over at the three of them, still grouped on the landing of the stairs.

And then she looked at  _Logan_  – looked him dead in the face, with the exact same green eyes Roman had peered at him across the aisle with on the first day of school. The hair on his neck stood up.

“Well,” she said finally, turning to their parents. “I’ll go then,”

Roman moved towards her but she held up a hand.

“But I know my Roman, and he’s just gonna badger the hell outta me until I tell him what all this is about. If you’d like to make sure he don’t get a biased version of the story, I’d be happy to do it now,”

She glanced at Logan again.

“Especially seein’ as I’m sure he won’t keep his mouth shut,”

Mom and Dad looked at each other. They seemed to have a conversation exclusively with their eyebrows and then Mom threw up her hands.

“Fine!  _Fine_! I’ll make coffee. Close the damn door,”

“ _Mama_!” gasped Thomas.

“You still got a swear jar, Dorothy?”

“ _Don’t,_ ” Mom hissed.

Ms. Gage held one hand up in surrender.

She closed the door behind her than reached one hand out towards Roman.

“This couch is too low, Roman, help me sit,”

Roman obediently stepped forward, gripping his grandmother’s forearms, and she used the cane and the arm of the couch to lower herself down.

Logan amended his assessment – strange arguments or not, Roman clearly adored her.

Mom came back from the kitchen and set the tray of mugs down on the coffee table. She didn’t sit.

“Well then,” said Ms. Gage, “Would you like to start, Dorothy?”

“I’ll wait,”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged.

“My daughters name was Abigail Gage,” she started and Logan’s eyes immediately zeroed in on Roman, who had gone totally still.

“Her name was  _Abby_ ,”

Ms. Gage’s mouth wrinkled. Logan couldn’t tell if she was upset or amused. “Thought you wanted to wait?”

“She’s not here to correct you. Someone has to do it,”

Logan looked at Roman again. He’d gone sheet-white, and was staring intently at the coffee table. Logan found himself speaking before he could really think about it.

“Roman?”

Roman didn’t seem to hear him, and when he looked up it wasn’t at Logan, but at Mom.

“Did you know her?” he said, his voice strangled.

Mom’s face went through a variety of expressions, too fast for Logan to decipher them, before she settled on what Logan could only imagine was heartbreak.

“Oh, Roman,” she said, “Your mother was my best friend in the entire world,”

She took a shaky breath and then took a seat in the chair. Dad, at the other end of the couch from Ms. Gage, handed her one of the cups of coffee. Roman leaned forward, enraptured.

“Abby was lovely,” said Dot, “Lovely and kind and sweet and- and so  _smart_ , gosh she was always reading something. She never had bad word to say about anybody,”

Logan crammed himself into the other chair with Thomas. They exchanged a look.

He was certain they were thinking the exact same thing.

Why had they never even heard of this woman?

“Did you- did she-” Roman stumbled over his words, and Logan wanted to - do  _something,_ he wasn’t quite sure what. He’d never heard Roman be anything other than smugly eloquent, and hearing him so hesitant was causing all sorts of jumbled, unpleasant emotions.

“I mean- do you know, uhm, me? I guess?” Roman finished in a small voice.

Dot turned an incredulous face to Ms. Gage.

“My god, May, have you told him  _anything_?”

“No, I have not,” said Ms. Gage, her voice flat.

“How could you-”

“Tell ‘im what, exactly, Dorothy?” she said, “Tell ‘im his grandmother is a damn fool? That his Mama died angry at me and I deserved it? Tell ‘im sometimes the story don’t have a happy ending?”

The anger on Mom’s face had been replaced by surprise. She looked completely taken aback.

Ms. Gage shook her head. She looked incredibly sad.

“Dorothy. Did ya really think I came here to pick another fight?”

Logan had been watching the two women, but his eyes were drawn back to Roman. He was looking at his grandmother with what could only be described as horror.

“Dorothy had her baby,” she said, “You were just barely toddlin’ Roman. And on the tenth day, well.”

She looked at Logan.

“We all know what happened the tenth day,” she continued.

“Don’t you  _dare_ -”

“Didn’t I say I was a fool?” Ms. Gage snapped at Mom, “Yes, I told ya to give him back. Yes, I told ya he’d bring nothin’ but trouble, and _yes,_ Dorothy, I am capable of admittin’ when I’m  _wrong,”_

She looked back at Logan and, for the first time, addressed him directly.

“I thought ya a changeling and nothin’ else. Didn’t occur to me you were just a baby before any a’ that. I told Abigail she was a fool and said if she wanted to flounce about with Good Neighbors she could do it away from me. And she did,”

Ms. Gage took a sip of her coffee.

“… So it  _was_  my fault,” said Logan.

“ _No_ ,” said both women and Dad in vehement unison.

“The boy’s just like ya, Dorothy,” snorted Ms. Gage, “Didn’t listen to a damn word I said,”

“Why-” said Roman, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

His grandmother returned her eyes to the coffee table.

“Shame is a persistent emotion, Roman, which is why I did my level best to raise ya without any,”

Her words were met with silence so thick Logan could hear the hum of the twilight insects outside the house.

“How could I tell ya I lost Abigail to my own pride and then to the grave? That if she’d had a choice ya would have grown up anywhere else but in my house?” she laughed bitterly, “Probably this house,”

Logan glanced at his mother, who’s eyes had gone shiny.

“I am sorry, Dorothy,” Ms. Gage said solemnly, “For every cruel thing I said to ya when I was bein’ a backwards old bitty. I am sorry, Roman, for hidin’ this from ya. And I am sorry, Logan, for blaming ya for the loss of my daughter when the only one to blame was me,”

“I accept your apology, Mamaw,” said Roman instantly, and she actually looked surprised.

“Quite a bit faster than ya normally say it,” she said.

“Normally I need to think about it for a bit. I mean, hiding my shoes? That’s quite an offense,” he said cheekily.

Ms. Gage snorted.

Mom cleared her throat gently.

“I accept your apology, May,” she said woodenly.

There was a fraction of a pause, and Logan stood up from the chair. Thomas gave him an alarmed look.

“I do  _not_  accept your apology, Ms. Gage,”

Roman and Mom looked surprised, but Roman’s face quickly morphed into anger.

But before he could speak, Logan continued.

“Ms. Gage should not have to apologize, because she was in the right,”

Roman’s face flipped right back to incredulity.

“ _What_? That makes no sense,”

“She was  _not_  right to say those things, Logan,” said Dad vehemently.

“But she  _was_  right!” he shouted, “Animals end up in people’s lockers when I am mad at them! I spoil the milk every time I get grounded! The fight at school today was because of me, not to even  _mention_ the dozens of fights centered around me before this! I am, objectively, the source of a statistically significant amount of trouble! She was  _right_!”

Thomas grabbed at Logan’s sleeve but Logan shook him off.

“Whether I was right or not, it don’t make a lick o’ difference,” said Ms. Gage, “If I was right, it didn’t keep Abigail alive. And I promise, Roman’s quite capable of gettin’ into trouble without  _your_  help, Logan Sanders,”

She reached out, cupping his hand in her right and patting it with her left.

“All children are trouble,” she continued, “’s how you learn. If I listed every white hair Roman ever gave me we’d be here all week,”

“Oh, yes, blame your shriveling old age on me,” said Roman.

“My hair was red as cardinal before ya came along, ya little leech,”

Mom cleared her throat.

They all looked at her and she seemed to chew on her words for a moment.

She gave a very small, hesitant smile.

“I would like to point out that Abby and I were responsible for at least 30% of the white hairs,”

Ms. Gage cackled so hard it morphed into a hacking cough.

“Alright, alright,” she said, “Enough of this flowery bullshit, Roman’s gotta feed the chickens before it gets dark,”

Roman groaned.

“How are the lovely ladies?” said Dad.

“A pack of gossiping hens, as always,” said Roman dryly.

“I’m sure ya think that joke never gets old,” said Ms. Gage as she started to get up. Roman jumped up, reaching out to help her.

Thomas jumped up too and looked at Logan, the question clear in his eyes.

Logan cleared his throat.

“We can also help, if you need it, Ms. Gage,”

“Don’t need it at the moment,” she said, and she and Roman did seem to have it well in hand. “But if ya really want to help me, ya can keep an eye on Roman at school,”

“Hey!”

“I do not… understand how you think me capable of keeping him out of trouble?”

“Oh, I don't mean that,” she scoffed, waving her hand, “I meant things like makin’ sure he don’t gamble or take stupid dares and bring shame upon my house,”

“I am  _right here_ ,”

“A tall order, to be sure,”

Roman made an offended noise.

“How dare you  _betray_  me like this?”

Logan caught a glimpse of his mother out of the corner of his eye, looking between him and Roman like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or sing.

For a fairy, he didn’t like to assume things were magical until given very good reason. But this moment?

Well. It felt a whole lot like fate.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come yell about sanders sides with me at tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com


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